


Gehenna

by thephilosophersapprentice



Series: as if these names could take our sins [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Aftermath of Genocide, Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Blood, F/M, Gen, Genocide, I started watching FMA thinking it would be just cute family stuff, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, but its fine, got completely blindsided by the body horror and gore, how would one tag a warning for getting eaten by a homunculus?, im fine, no im not, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-02 05:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice
Summary: The Elrics' attempt to capture a homunculus goes disastrously wrong. Edward finds out the truth about Ishval. He doesn't take it well.





	1. Entrance

After Winry left, Edward sat on the floor, his head in his hands. “What’s wrong?” Alphonse asked.

Edward groaned, massaging his temples where a migraine had begun to grow. “I don’t want Scar’s help with any of this.”

“Why not?”

Edward leaned forward, hugging his knees to his chest. “I met some of our people in Xerxes,” he said.

“And?” Alphonse said expectantly.

“And two of them were at the Rockbells’ clinic when they were killed. They said the killer’s face was bandaged, but there was a large, intricate tattoo on his right arm.”

Alphonse made a slight, diplomatic sound—if he had had a body, it would’ve been breath leaving his mouth. “Are you sure it was Scar? There might be other Ishvalans with tattoos out there.”

“It’s one _hell_ of a coincidence,” Edward growled.

“What are you going to do, brother?” Al asked. He sounded apprehensive.

“Now isn’t the time, I know. But he’s going to have to answer to me for what he did sooner or later.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret later,” Alphonse said.

“Trust me,” Edward gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’d regret it more if I just let him go.”

Alphonse sighed. The conversation was over, but Ed knew that his little brother wasn’t satisfied with the result. He didn’t think Edward thought ahead enough. Well, Al would just have to trust him. He had things to do.

* * *

With his hair tucked up into the cap pulled down over his eyes and the old, slightly threadbare clothes, Edward might have been any other Ishvalan refugee. In this quarter, his appearance attracted no attention. Edward knew all too well how to survive—keep your head down, keep to the side, make yourself invisible. It was easy, when people were already primed to not see you.

Here, Edward fit in, among his mother’s people. The Fullmetal Alchemist was just a name, after all—a convenient mask gifted to him by the man responsible for the destruction of everything Mom had loved except for the one thing she had loved the most—the one person who had deserved it least.

An old man passed on the other side of the street, dressed in clothing more traditional to Ishval. Edward hurried across and tapped his arm. “Excuse me. I’m looking for a man with an x-shaped scar on his face. It’s urgent.”

“If you have a good reason to look for him, boy, he surely has a name,” the old man said reproachfully.

“My name is Asim, son of Tariquah Al-Rikh. The man I’m looking for has no name. If he had one before, I am too young to know.”

The man watched him warily for another few seconds before nodding. “Go to the end of the street. You’ll find a man named Yoki.” Edward had to cover up a sudden coughing fit as his chest spasmed with surprise. The man watched him again before continuing. “Yoki knows where the scarred man is. If you give up your kin to the military, I don’t have to tell you what kind of dog you are.”

Edward gave a short, respectful bow. “Thank you. May Ishvala guard you.”

“And you,” the old man returned.

Edward hurried toward the end of the street. It was a nice sentiment, hoping that Ishvala would guard him, but he’d never felt particularly close to Ishvala and privately thought that even a merciful god probably had better things to do than keep tabs on a heretic alchemist.

Edward ducked under the canvas flap that served for a door in the ramshackle shack at the end of the road. Yoki sprang to his feet. “Don’t any of you Ishvalan mongrels have any concept of knocking?” the man asked, in a tone of waspish temper that alternated with whining. Edward wasn’t sure what to think as he stared at Yoki. The man had clearly taken his change in fortunes hard, but Edward didn’t feel any particular pity for him.

Suddenly, Yoki’s whole demeanor changed. “ _You_ ,” he gasped. Edward took off the cap, scratching his forehead under his bangs. “You can’t—what are you—I mean—” Yoki babbled, rapid-fire. At last, he squeezed his goggling eyes shut, then opened them again. “You can’t have much of a sense of self-preservation,” he said weakly, “if you walk in here like that.”

Edward hung his cap on the bedstead in the corner. “You were surprisingly accurate in your earlier description of me. ‘Ishvalan mongrel,’ I think you said.”

Yoki’s cheeks puffed out and he blanched, rendered completely speechless.

“I’m going to wait here for Scar to come back and I’d much rather not make conversation,” Edward informed him cheerfully. He leaned against the wall, putting the cap back on, ignoring Yoki’s bewildered flailing.

It wasn’t long before Scar ducked inside. As he saw Edward, an expression of surprise crossed his face. “Asim,” he greeted slowly. “What brings you here?”

Edward stood up. “I need a favor.”

“What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?” Scar rumbled.

“None—yet. We need to lure out the homunculi—”

“What is a ‘homunculi’?” Scar asked, raising a hand and cutting Edward off.

“Oh… I forgot,” Edward said. “You haven’t had access to all the alchemy books and whatnot…” He shifted his weight, unconsciously mimicking Izumi’s posture. “There’s a concept in alchemy called a homunculus—an artificially-created human being. However, creating a person through alchemy is forbidden, for good reason. Furthermore, it’s impossible through ordinary means. However, Central—all of Amestris, really—has a bit of an infestation. Colonel Mustang found out that these homunculi are created with philosophers’ stones at their core, which makes them able to regenerate from nothing multiple times before they actually die.”

“Philosopher’s stones?”

Edward exhaled. “They’re made from… from human souls.” He focused on breathing to dispel the sick feeling in his chest. “They supposedly work outside the law of equivalent exchange, but I strongly doubt that. The worth of—of _people_ —” He swallowed back his disgust. Scar placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him with the same arm that bore the alchemic emblems of destruction. “They used them against our people,” Edward whispered. “I know I’m only a half-blood, but—this country is _sick_.”

“Your mother was Ishvalan, was she not?” Scar asked.

“Well, yes…”

“There is no ‘half-blood.’” Scar looked him in the eyes. “You receive your name from Ishvala, the inheritance of your family from your mother. To call yourself ‘half-blood’ is to see yourself as any Amestrian would see you. In the eyes of Ishvala, you are one of his children.”

“Oh,” Edward managed.

“Now. What was this favor you wanted to ask?”

“The homunculi don’t know that I am Ishvalan and they don’t know that you aren’t hunting—well, not me, at any rate. For some reason, they need me alive.” Edward shifted slightly. “And we need to find out more about who they are and what they’re planning. Since they need me alive, if you publicly stage a fake attack on me, then if it looks like I’m really in danger, they’ll have to come rescue me, and that’s when we’ll turn the tables on them.”

Scar eyed him dubiously. “Your plan leaves a lot to chance.”

Edward shifted again, uncomfortably. “I know it does. But we need to move forward _somehow_ , and this is the only way I could think of.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m not part of your hare-brained scheme,” Yoki sniffed.

Edward glared at him. “No one asked you,” he said tartly.

As he turned to go, Scar caught him with an arm across his chest. “Be careful, Asim.”

Edward nodded, twisted his hair back up into his cap, and left.

* * *

“Something’s off here,” Mustang said. “Scar hasn’t come after you—after _anyone_ —since his confrontation with you in East City. You wouldn’t happen to have planned this ahead of time, would you, Fullmetal?”

Edward smirked. “Guess I’m an open book, Colonel.” Mustang gave a frustrated growl. “No one else could put it together, hopefully.” Edward’s strange eyes—not red but odd enough to disturb Mustang—looked past rather than through him.

“No,” Mustang said. “I don’t think anyone else could figure you out.” Edward relaxed slightly, gratified. “If you aren’t luring _Scar_ out, then there’s really only one other option.”

Edward’s grin was fierce. “That’s right. We’re going to catch ourselves a homunculus.”

“If, as we suspect, the homunculi are connected with the military, won’t it seem suspicious to them when you and Scar turn on them together?”

Edward grimaced slightly. “We have additional… _help_. From Xing.”

“I see,” Mustang said. “The Lieutenant and I will help as well.”

“All due disrespect, Colonel, but you’re still injured. You’re in no condition for a fight. And how do we know the homunculi won’t try to get revenge on you for killing one of them?”

“Colonel,” Alphonse said, “what we need most right now is a good distraction to keep the military police from intervening before the homunculi can show up to rescue us.”

Mustang nodded. “All right. We’ll back you up. There’s an abandoned house on the outskirts of Central. We’ll meet you there afterward.” He and Hawkeye left silently.

As if they had rehearsed it, Scar appeared at the end of the alley. Edward nodded to Alphonse; they advanced together.

They soon fell into an uneasy rhythm; attack, avoid, withdraw. Scar’s performance was convincing enough, riddled with near misses. The brothers gave as good as they got; Central was a battleground.

Two men from the military police fell victim as they tried to intervene; they fell, stunned, under rubble as Scar deconstructed part of the alley. Edward could feel his attacks slowing. He was tiring too fast. Where were Ling and the homunculi?

As if sensing Edward’s exhaustion, Alphonse called out, “Scar! You say you’re punishing state alchemists. How do you justify your own use of alchemy?”

Scar aimed a swing at Edward’s head, narrowly missing him. “If there is creation, there must also be destruction. Sometimes, to do the will of God, one must take up the weapons of the enemy!”

Edward swept his feet at Scar’s ankles, then fell back several steps. “That’s a dangerous way of thinking!” He sidestepped.

“We all do harm whether we mean to or not,” Scar growled.

“Is that what you call what happened to Nina?” Ed snarled.

“Edward,” Alphonse said in a low, urgent voice.

Ed carried on heedlessly. “That’s no justification for murdering someone like you murdered the Doctors Rockbell! They saved your _life_ and you killed them!”

To Ed’s right was a startlingly familiar shocked gasp. Edward turned to see what Alphonse had been trying to point out to him, too late.

Winry stood in the junction of the rubble-covered cross street. Her tool case fell from her hand. It hit the ground with a clatter.

“Edward, is this true?” Her voice was deceptively low.

“Winry…”

“Answer me!” The order cracked like a whip.

Edward swallowed. Before he could answer, Scar said, his voice emotionless, “It is.”

The gun scraped along the cobblestones as Winry picked it up, shaking. It rattled in her hands. She leveled it at Scar.

“Winry, no,” Ed whispered.

“Shoot, girl,” Scar said, his voice still devoid of emotion. “It is your right. But do not miss.”

“It’s your fault,” Winry said, her voice trembling. “It’s all because of you!”

“Winry!”

“You _took them from me!_ ”

“No!”

Edward didn’t know what he was doing. Instinctively, he vaulted over Scar, leaping between him and Winry, arms outspread. He crouched, frozen. Everyone was still, unsure of what to do next.

Al clapped, raising a wall between Scar and Ed. “Ed, you idiot! Get Winry somewhere safe!” Then he was gone, the sounds of the fight fading into the distance.

Ed turned to Winry. Her hands were shaking on the gun. “Winry?”

“All because of him,” Winry choked. “Because of _him_ …”

Ed put his hand on the barrel of the gun.

“I couldn’t pull the trigger, Ed! Why couldn’t I just pull the trigger?”

Edward grasped her hands. “That’s not who you are.” He eased the safety back on.

“He deserves to _pay_ for what he did!” Winry cried.

“I know, Win. I know.”

“Why couldn’t I just _do it_?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Ed whispered. “The answers are yours. But I can tell you what I believe…” He squeezed her hand gently. “You’ve always been there for me and Al.” He gently pried her finger from the trigger. “You saved the life of that woman and her baby in Rush Valley.” Her middle and ring fingers came away. “You gave me a leg so I could stand up again, an arm so I could move forward.” Her pinky let go. Edward set the gun aside, grasping her hands. “Your hands weren’t made to kill. They were meant to give life.”

Winry burst into tears and clung to him. Edward wrapped an arm around her shoulders. _When there was nothing I believed in—I believed in them._

* * *

When Hawkeye came to pick them up, she seemed subdued. Capturing Gluttony had come at a high price—it had cost Lan Fan her arm. She was resting at the safehouse now.

The drive to the safehouse was quiet. Edward watched in silent sympathy as Doctor Knox worked to save the bodyguard’s life. When Knox finished, Edward followed Fu into the room.

“Foolish girl,” Fu growled. “You failed to protect the prince—you lost your arm—” Edward cried out as Fu struck his granddaughter. Knox tried to restrain him. Fu subsided into grief. “Foolish girl.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Edward said, clutching at his automail.

“No,” Lan Fan said softly. “He’s right. If I can’t help the clan—”

“There have to be other ways you can do that,” Edward said.

Lan Fan shook her head. Fu gave a gasping sob. “Foolish, foolish girl.”

“I know a good mechanic,” Edward said, turning to Lan Fan. “You’d be back in fighting shape in no time.”

Lan Fan nodded decisively, shifting her weight. “Edward. How did you lose your arm?”

Edward laughed, trying to sound light. “Oh, that? I was doing something stupid.”

“Whatever it was, it had an impact on you,” Lan Fan said. “I can see it in your face when you look at your brother.”

“My greatest failing,” Edward said softly.

“Was it worth it?” Lan Fan asked.

“Every moment,” Edward whispered fiercely. “Every cell, every sinew, every drop of blood, every screaming nerve, every second of physical therapy.” The arm he’d given to save Al—that was nothing he wouldn’t give all over again. “Was it worth it for you?”

“Whatever it takes to ensure the protection of the clan and the safety of the young lord,” Lan Fan said. She laughed, the sound dry and exhausted. “We’re not so different after all. Dedicated to a cause, or to a person. We even share the same failings.”

Edward felt his cheeks flare with heat at the mention of his temper. “Shut up,” he said mildly.

Knox pushed him out of the room. “Out, you noisy brat. She needs rest.”

They convened in the hallway outside the front room, where Gluttony was pinioned. “What shall we do with this creature?” Mustang asked rhetorically.

“My bodyguard lost her arm to let us capture it,” Ling said.

“You can’t just take it back to Xing! We have to question him to find out what they’re up to!” Edward interjected.

“Lan Fan almost died!” Ling shouted back. “I think that gives us a prior claim.”

“What they’re doing could affect every citizen of Amestris. Don’t you care about them?”

“Amestris is not my country,” Ling retorted. “Besides, what about you, Ishvalan? Amestrians slaughtered your people. Why do _you_ care?”

“I have friends here! Most Amestrians had nothing to do with the war. They’re completely innocent!”

“Edward. You need to calm down _now_ ,” Mustang commanded.

Edward whirled on him. “You think I don’t know what you did in Ishval, Mustang? You killed more of us than any other state alchemist except perhaps Kimblee! You think you can order me around?”

“Brother—”

Edward realized, once again too late, what Al was trying to alert him to. The homunculus was writhing in its bonds, shrieking “Mustang! Mustang killed Lust! Eat him! Eat him!” There was a terrible sound like something ripping in half, then the entire wall of the house was simply _gone_.

They fled outside. A huge furrow had been carved out of the earth. Mustang pulled on his gloves. “Don’t kill it!” Ling shouted.

“You think we have a choice?” Mustang snapped as Gluttony emerged from the building, suddenly far more monstrous—a vision from a nightmare. A gaping maw surrounded by teeth with a slitted eye hovering at its center. Something about it stirred a memory, but Edward didn’t have time for that now. Gluttony swallowed up Mustang’s flames. Mustang froze in shock for a moment; Ed and Ling dragged him into the cover of the woods.

“The Colonel’s injured,” Alphonse said.

“You need to get out of here,” Edward agreed. “You’re useless like this.”

Mustang laughed bitterly. “So I can’t give you orders, but you can order me around?”

Edward glared at him. “Shut up. Don’t make me hit you.”

They hurried Mustang back to the car, then turned to the task of subduing Gluttony.

“We could just leave him,” Edward suggested, not seriously. They’d put too much work into this already.

“Not a chance,” Ling growled.

“Well, how are we supposed to take him down then?” Ed snapped. “We might not be able to make him talk, either.”

They were interrupted by a voice from behind them. “Stop it. Now, Gluttony.” They turned to look. Behind them stood a dog, its eyes glowing in the dark. It morphed into Envy, who grinned at them. “Long time no see, pipsqueak.”

Ed aimed a kick at Envy’s head. “Hey! Calm down!” the homunculus yelped. “I’m only here to collect Gluttony!”

“Like hell you will!” Edward shouted, throwing a punch.

Envy ducked out of the way. “You can’t eat the sacrifices, Gluttony!” he shouted.

“Mustang killed Lust!” Gluttony argued.

“Mustang’s gone by now,” Ling said.

Envy paused, staring at Ling. A slow grin spread across the homunculus’ face. “Him you can eat.”

Edward pressed his palms together and slammed them against the ground, raising a wall that cut off Gluttony from Ling. “Switch partners!” The Elrics attacked Gluttony, leaving Envy to Ling. The battle raged around the transmuted wall, breaking up trees and soil. Gluttony was within range to attack Ling again; Ed dived to tackle the Xingese prince out of the way, too late.

Darkness subsumed them.

* * *

Alphonse screamed out his brother’s name as Edward disappeared. Half of Envy’s crouching form fell away into dust. The two humans and the homunculus were Elsewhere.


	2. Exeunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he can do is offer his only, eternal prayer. "Please forgive me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets a bit intense. It was a pain to write, but I'm pretty happy with it and too tired to worry about it. Anyway, enjoy.

Edward groaned and sat upright, rubbing his head. He felt dizzy. The tang of slow-decomposing iron hovered in the air around him. It was warm, stagnant.

He rose to his feet, completely baffled by his surroundings. His boots sloshed through a dull liquid; his clothes were saturated. Edward dried and cleaned them with a quick transmutation before further taking stock of the situation.

Was he underground? It was like a cavern, its ceiling and walls lost in blackness, scantily lit by slowly dying flame. Oddments were scattered here and there, and the fluid underfoot was… red?

Edward gave a gasp of horror and stumbled back. It was _blood_ , and it was _everywhere_.

Edward picked up a burning branch, staring into the dark all around. The last thing he remembered was fighting Gluttony.

“Anyone? Hello?” His voice fell flat on the still, stifling air. It didn’t feel like an open space; there was no echo. The closeness seeped into his chest, making his skin crawl. “Ling? Al?” Silence, except for the sound of blood swishing around his ankles. “Ling, you idiot prince!”

“Who are you calling stupid?”

Edward spun around. “Ling!”

* * *

 

“I suppose I should have known it would be you two idiots,” Envy’s voice grated from the darkness around. Ling sprang to his feet defensively, Edward beside him. Envy simply walked into their camp and sat down.

“All right, Envy,” Edward snapped—hasty as always. “You got us into this mess, you can get us out.”

“I can’t,” Envy said.

“Like hell.”

“Haven’t you figured it out, you little idiots? There _is_ no way out,” Envy said. “We’re all going to die in here.”

Edward froze. “No. We have to get back—I have to keep my promise—”

Lan Fan. Fu. The clan. Ling was going to die here with the bravest idiot he’d ever met and a monster living off the stolen souls of innocents.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize it,” Envy said. “You of all people…”

“The truth…” Edward breathed. “But this is wrong… it wasn’t all dark and full of blood… there was a gate…” Ling frowned to himself. Perhaps there was more of a difference between alchemy and alcahestry than he’d thought.

“Huh, so that’s what the real one looks like,” Envy commented. “Gluttony was an experiment by our father to create his own Portal of Truth. I guess you can see how _well_ that went.”

“And all this stuff—it’s all from different eras…” Edward breathed. “How _long_ have you been doing this?”

“Since the beginning, pipsqueak!” Envy replied, gleefully. “You funny little humans. Always thinking you’re on top of things, that you’re in charge of your own destinies. Ha! You think all those ideas were your own? We’ve been behind it from the very start. You nearly messed us up in Leore, brat, but in the end, all you’ve ever done was play into our hands.”

“And who is this ‘Father,’ playing God, making false portals, anyway?” Edward demanded. “Bradley?”

“Ha! He’s just a homunculus,” Envy snorted. “We’ve been behind it all from the start, and you’ve played your part _so_ well, Fullmetal Alchemist! _Everyone_ has, from Riviere to Ishval.”

Edward went dead white. Ling had watched and listened too long. It was too late to intervene.

“What about Ishval?” Edward asked, thickly, through bloodless lips.

And Envy was determined to goad him, to milk any expression to the limit. He grinned, his mouth a wide gash, exposing far too many teeth. “Ah, Ishval. The best assignment I’ve ever taken. All I had to do was pull a trigger and you humans fell over each other to shed some blood!”

Edward was choking, like he couldn’t get in enough air. He got to his feet unsteadily, lurching toward the homunculus.

“Edward, stop,” Ling said, his voice low and urgent. Edward didn’t hear him over Envy’s diatribe.

“And do you want to know the best part?” Envy crowed. “I disguised myself as a moderate officer who opposed the occupation! He couldn’t even find anything to say when they court-martialed and shot him!”

“Shut up!” Edward shouted.

“Edward!” Ling snapped. Edward ignored him.

“Shut up! It’s all _your_ fault! Because of you, Resembool was almost destroyed! _You_ turned Scar into a vengeance-crazed murderer! Because of you the Rockbells are _dead_ and _I_ am never going to know the rest of my clan or learn the traditions we lost and it’s all _your fault!_ ” He threw a punch. Envy barely moved, except to throw back his head and roar with laughter.

“You, Pipsqueak, an Isvhalan? You little desert mongrel! This is just too good!” Envy rocked back and forth with mirth. “Desert rat! Stray Ishvalan dog! Oh, the _irony_! This is just too rich!” The homunculus straightened up, still grinning garishly from ear to ear.

“Listen, runt. It didn’t have to be Isvhal. Could’ve been anywhere, really. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Honestly, you humans make it far too easy. Anyone who is different from you is a threat. It’s so easy to breed hate in the masses for anyone who looks ever so slightly different from the rest. Just a little goading, and whole wars break out! Blood calls for blood, violence begets more violence, and you mortal fools never even learn. And the really funny part is that it doesn’t even matter who dies! You just happened to be a convenient fake enemy for our real war. It was only Ishval because Ishval was convenient.”

Edward lunged for Envy’s throat. The homunculus batted him away like a fly. “Oh, you want to _fight_? We’re all going to die here anyway. Equivalent exchange. Think of it as a parting gift!”

Ling grabbed Edward’s arm and dragged him back. “Ed, get away from there!”

Edward struggled. “Let me go!”

“Did you notice his footprints when we fought in the forest?” Ling hissed.

“No…”

“He’s freakishly heavy for his size. His true form must be enormous.”

Before their eyes, Envy shifted, skin turning green, long, lank hair hanging around a head more muzzle than face, many arms supporting a massive bulk, a cluster of faces around the shoulders—something out of a nightmare.

“I’ve killed so many Ishvalan brats already,” Envy roared. “What’s one more!”

The two humans scrambled to get out of the way, too late. Envy’s tail smashed into Edward, knocking him sideways; Ling was kicked in the other direction. They ran, dodging, breathing hard.

* * *

 

“ _That’s_ a homunculus?” Ling gasped. “I thought they were supposed to be artificial _humans_!”

“Ugly on the inside, ugly on the outside,” Edward growled.

“I need a weapon.” Ling said.

“That’s a cinch with all this iron around!” Edward transmuted a sword, teasing the iron from the ocean of blood, nudging it into steel, hardening edges while leaving the core of the sword softer, flexible.

He tossed the completed weapon to Ling, who stared at it blankly. “You have terrible taste.”

Edward transmuted the plating on his forearm into a wicked blade. “Says who?” The retort came out sounding more tired than he would have liked. “You’re one to talk. All that white and yellow? Seriously?”

Ling snorted, moving to the attack. Edward followed, flanking Envy on the other side and slashing at the homunculus’ leg. Envy howled with pain and batted Edward away. It took precious seconds to regain his feet. He clapped, aiming wicked metal spikes at Envy’s bulk. How long would it take them to wear down Envy’s stone? How long could they keep this up?

He added more long spires to his precarious structure, attempting to pin the homunculus and negate some of his attacks, but Envy rolled onto his side, screaming, and snapped off Edward’s transmuted steel spines like so many toothpicks. Ling was everywhere, attacking from every angle he could manage. Edward charged, bringing his arm back for a blow—

and stopped as he met the eyes of a desperate face. “Please,” the face begged in a voice that was discrete from Envy’s. “Help me…”

The voices crowded in, calling for parents and children and siblings and begging and pleading in a roll of cacophony. Edward’s hands were on his ears, his eyes squeezed closed.

“Kill me,” the voice begged. “Please kill me.”

He was going to be sick.

Hideous laughter poured in around his fingers. Ling skewered the ugly head from the top.

“What are you doing?” Edward cried. “They need help!”

“They’re monsters, Ed!” Ling argued. “Fight! Stay focused!”

“Big brother,” a cheerful voice called, and Edward froze.

Envy seized them and tore them apart, slamming Edward into what was left of their camp. The impact drove the air from his lungs and left him stunned. His head fell sideways. The transmutation circle from Xerxes. It was incomplete, but he could see how it fit together, the pathways that would guide the energy to circulate and reconstruct the object. He was being lifted away from it all. _Leave me alone. I just want to rest_. He had to move, but all his motions were clumsy, uncoordinated, wrong. His vision greyed out, a red glow filtering into his consciousness.

The philosopher’s stone at Envy’s core. It shone on him in a mockery of benevolence, pleading to be seized, to be used. Louder, now, rose the cacophony of moaning and wailing voices— _brother, brother, --brother, join us, be one with us, become whole!_ —drowning out the will to fight, to _live_. It was so close… to reach out and touch—to take or be taken—reality—the truth—

the truth—

the Truth!

It came in a sudden burst of clarity. This place was all a lie. The way out led through the Truth.

Edward kicked out as hard as he could. Up. _Out._ The movement sent a sunburst of pain through his chest as his broken ribs grated on each other. He didn’t care. Up. Out. Sunlight. Fresh air. Grass, trees, the wide expanse of the clear sky. Home. Hope.

“Envy! Let me out! I know the way out of here!”

* * *

 

“That’s the last of them that I could find,” Envy grunted, setting down the last of the stone slabs—all that was left of the human transmutation circle from the desolate Xerxes. Edward picked up a stick, etching out the circle from memory, adapting it as he went—he didn’t want to create a stone, but to open the portal—to transmute himself and not to mess it up.

He tapped the stick at the sun on the carving. “Soul.” The moon. “Mind.” He gripped the edge of the carved stone with his automail hand. “Body.” Edward took a deep breath and faced Envy. “At first I thought that mural was a circle to create a philosopher’s stone, but this is more than that—the lion swallowing the sun, the name of God written upside down, the two-headed dragon—this is sheer arrogance! ‘I will cast down God and ascend his throne to become the perfect being.’ Those people—they’re the citizens of Xerxes, aren’t they? Who was it, Envy? Who wants to take the place of God?”

Envy grinned at him. “I’ll tell you after you get us out of this place, alchemist.”

“It might not even work. Why don’t you tell me now?”

Envy gazed at his monstrous fingernails. “Nah.”

“Well, then why Ishval? Why would you want them all destroyed? Ishval was no military power!”

Envy smirked. “I’ll tell you if we get out.”

Edward turned toward the circle with a snarl.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Envy asked. “You need a toll to open the Gate, don’t you? Luckily I happen to have one on hand.” A shard of philosopher’s stone fell from the monster’s mouth into Edward’s inhuman hand. His fingers closed around it, unwillingly.

“But these are human lives—”

“Listen to yourself. They’re not human any more. They have no bodies, no wills. They’re just energy to be consumed. Ignore your feelings and use your logic.”

Ling touched Edward’s shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

Edward gave him a wan smile. “It’s either die here and break my promise, get horribly torn about in a rebound, or maybe get back to my brother… If I don’t make it out… please tell Al—”

“I don’t want to hear your message,” Ling interrupted coolly. “You’ll just have to survive to tell him yourself.” He smirked.

“When the portal opens, jump in.” Edward drew in a deep breath, ignoring the throb of his broken arm as he prepared to transmute himself. He pressed his palms together, offering up his single constant prayer.

_Please forgive me. I can’t return you to your previous bodies and lives. I can’t restore Xerxes. I can’t undo what has been done. But I must move forward. I must keep my promise to my brother. I have to stop this from happening again. I hope you understand. Please forgive me._

The Eye of the Portal opened.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized on posting the previous installment that I've consistently called the Elrics "half-Ishvalan" when their mother was Ishvalan. In Judaism (my real-world model for the Ishvalan religion), inheritance descends through the mother's line--if the mother is Jewish, the child is Jewish. Ed and Al are not "half" Ishvalan; they are Ishvalan plain and simple. Then I realized that I could retcon my mistake away by explaining it as their misunderstanding about their own culture, and here we are.


End file.
